Unseen Wounds Are The Deepest
by Miranda le Ginger
Summary: Commander Cyan Shepard is many things; a soldier, a survivor, a hero. But, can she add healer to her resume and help someone regarded by many as a lost cause? In doing so, can she heal herself?


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Mass Effect or its characters except my version of Shepard, Cyan. Even then, I technically cannot claim her XD

**Warning**: This story is rated T for a reason. Swearing that would make a sailor blanch is scattered throughout the fic (it _is_ Jack, after all) and the 'c' word (a term for a male chicken) is used once. A litany of profanity, mentions of drug usage (though minor; I am against the act) and a plethora of suggestive words/actions/sequences. There is no graphic sex, but it IS alluded to. Viewer discretion is advised.

"Love is weakness!" "No, it's _strength_."-Cora and Emma Swan (respectively), 'Once Upon A Time'

The elevator door hissed open, the tall commander striding out confidently. Her blazing red hair fell about shoulders broadened from years of hard manual labor. Unusual violet orbs peered out from under a fringe of red, piercing in intensity and yet full of vigor and warmth. A jagged scar split her cheek, smooth skin making way for rough, puckered flesh. It was the only mark that marred otherwise flawless ivory skin besides a small scar from a previous burn.

Cyan Shepard departed the elevator, intent on catching a well-deserved nap after a grueling mission in a line of victories. Though it was a win, the recent battles weighed heavily on the soldier's mind, wearing down her rock-hard psyche until even she feared cracking under the strain. This last particular mission was particularly grueling, both physically and mentally. Pragia had been a wasteland of broken dreams, horrific experimentation and memories that would haunt Cyan for months to come. Seeing Jack so visibly distraught, running frustrated hands over closely shaven hair, was not something Cyan ever thought she would see. Cyan hoped to never see her like that again.

The stalwart commander barely walked ten paces from the elevator when the familiar voice of her humorous pilot sounded overhead. "Um, Commander? I think you might want to head over to Miranda's office. Her and Jack are at each other's throat again, only this time I think Jack might actually maim her. Thought you might not want casualties so early in the game."

Cyan shook her head, sure fingers threading through the fiery hands in frustration. She knew this day would come. The Cerberus operative and the biotic had never liked each other; they were two sides of the proverbial coin. No matter hard Cyan tried to get them to play nice, she knew they would never be friends. But, she had hoped that comrades would not have been out of the question. A sigh was expelled from lips weary of authority. "Thanks, Joker. I will head there now and put a stop to this." The Normandy's keeper nodded his head at the helm, mock saluting even though he knew his commanding officer would never see it. "Aye aye, Commander. Good luck."

_I'm going to need it. _The soldier quickly changed her route, heading swiftly in the direction of her XO's office, hopefully before anyone was seriously hurt. Miranda was an exceptional woman, and her usage of biotics was well above average. In fact, she and Cyan were evenly matched; a fact Shepard was quite proud of. She had come along well since her first days in the Alliance. However, neither of them were a match for Jack, who had even impressed Samara with her skill. The convict was the equal of asari in prowess, which did not bode well for Miranda if Jack was in the mood Joker alluded to.

_Damn it Miranda_. Cyan growled low in her throat, violet eyes narrowing to slits as her hands clenched tight into fists. It was no secret Miranda held Jack in contempt and thought her lower than the scum on Omega, but after what they had witnessed on Pragia, Cyan had thought Miranda might be a little more sympathetic to the tortured biotic. After all, she and Jack were more similar than they realized. That was the main reason she had brought Miranda along with her and Jack, leaving Lt. Taylor in charge of the Normandy.

Cyan felt a pang in her chest as she thought once more of the tormented, confused look in mocha eyes as the trio walked through the derelict Cerberus facility. Blood and broken glass littered the ground, and nature itself was fighting the old machinery, winning slowly as the place was once again claimed to the earth. Slowly, more and more of the atrocities that went on there came into light, painting a dark and grotesque picture. Cyan remembered feeling the bile rising up her throat, choking her as the acrid smell of death left to fester and rot reached her sensitive nostrils.

The woman shook her head, ridding herself of unwanted memories. She would have time later to dwell on it. Pragia could be added to a long list of tragedy that already haunted Cyan's every jaunt into the void; she was usually awakened at night, eyes wide with terror and mouth open in a scream, pleading to whatever deity roamed the heavens above that she be allowed rest. While the sweat cooled upon her brow, the nightmares would run repeat in her mind until she could literally smell her parents burning corpses on Mindoir, feel the pain in her bones as the thresher maw hit her vehicle on Akuze, taking the lives of her comrades as easily as breathing. She could see the fire slowly enveloping a small boy, frightened eyes boring with accusation into her own terrified orbs.

The former colonist hastened her pace, willing her own demons to plague her at a later time when convenience was nothing but a courtesy. The door to Miranda's office loomed ahead, and the soldier could already hear the cacophony of shouts coalesce behind the sliding plate. The fighting got louder as she got into view. Cyan stormed in, only to stop as she saw Jack aiming a fist surrounded by blue energy at Miranda's perfect face. Dodging the blow, Miranda adopted a fighting stance. Glacial blue met furious brown, and Cyan knew that if she did not jump in the fray she would have at least one member less of the dream team she had assembled.

"Enough you two! I said **enough**!" The commander shot forward, her own biotics flaring to life in case she needed the protection. Miranda froze for a moment, body going limp as she lowered her stance. Jack however only took a threatening step forward, dark eyes locked on the Cerberus agent. "Step aside Shepard; this bitch is about to get what she deserves." A dark eyebrow raises, a smirk painting a lovely face an ugly color. "You wouldn't kill me, convict. You know you'd be thrown out of the nearest airlock if you jeopardized the mission in anyway. And Cerberus would be down on you faster than a bullet from a Carnifex."

A tick pulsed in the biotic's jaw as she took another step, biotics sparking as her rage intensified. "Fucking Cerberus lapdog, you must be soft in the head if you think the Illusive Prick scares me. You may be sucking humanity's cock, but I have been screwed over enough by him to not give a shit what he throws at me. Let him _try_."

Cyan held her arms out, imploring the women to desist. "Stop the fighting; we have enough of that with the Collectors! Eno-" The soldier was cut short as jack screamed. "What Cerberus did to me was _wrong_! I was a goddamned child!" No pity or empathy shone from cold eyes. "The facility was rogue; the Illusive Man would never have allowed those experiments, even if the gain was enormous. Clearly, you were a mistake for more than one reason." Cyan froze, shock registering on her face. She turned to stare at her second in command, mind refusing to even believe the woman could be so…so callous after everything they witnessed on Pragia. After seeing Jack so upset, seeing her room…seeing Aresh. It was cold, even for the woman with the moniker' Ice Princess'. Cyan opened her mouth for a heated rebuke when Jack beat her to it.

"I'll smear the walls with you, Cerberus bitch! We'll see how long you last without daddy and master to save you!" Cyan reacted, darting forward and placing a restraining hand on a muscled forearm. "Jack, stop! Think about what you are doing! You are better than this!" Wild eyes turned to Shepard, half-crazed in pain and anger. "What the hell would you know, _Commander_? Who the fuck designated you as my therapist? Firecrotch up there tries enough for the both of you. Maybe you should fuck each other's brains out and consult that!"

Anger welled in the soldier's body, escaping through the sudden viciousness in her eyes. "I'm not trying to be your goddamned therapist! I'm trying to be your _friend_! But since you won't listen, your **commander** is what you'll get!" Her biotics shone brightly as she tried vainly to get control of her mounting anger. Her body vibrated, muscles standing out as she fought the urge to attack. Cyan was not prone to unnecessary violence; she was an utter paragon in every way imaginable. No other soldier was as virtuous or kind, and that was from the Alliance's own mouth. But Jack's words echoed around in her head, the barbed words stinging and inciting pain desperately held captive.

_Smoke, curling high over the tops of the roofs; decay and the stench of burning flesh pervade her senses, choking her…suffocating her. Her heart throbbed like the staccato of a Black Widow, high up in her throat as she nestled deeper into her hiding spot; the wild, untamed bush not ten feet from her house. Sixteen years of age, trembling in fear as the Batarian slavers encroached ever closer to her hastily amended hiding place. Her mother and father, proud ex-soldiers standing guard in their house, flint in eyes long devoid of ferocity and the fire that lights in all who wear a uniform. Burrowing deeper as a slaver runs by, gun notched in hand as bullet after bullet rips through her carefully cultivated home. Warm memories flooded by despair and screams; her own ripping from a raw throat as she sees a missile strike her father in the chest. Watches in horror as deep blue eyes stare defiantly on, broad chest blossoming with blood seeping generously onto the once pristine floor. Hears her mouth scream in agony as she too is struck down…down…blood copious as it slithers from cold corpses. Lifeless…gone…orphan_….

Help had arrived not even ten minutes later, killing most of the slavers and yet not catching the ones who had physically put a bullet in her parents. The brass had apologized and shared pitied looks at the teen, but the young fiery-headed girl had ignored it all. Her kind heart had been hardened, her body numb with pain. The Batarians who had orchestrated the event were found soon after, and the murderers or the Shepards were found. But the deaths were no solace to the now young orphan. Her mind was forever tainted with the memories of her parent's slaughter, and the knowledge that her baby sister, six and a half months in the womb, would never see the light of day. A month later, she enlisted in the military and underwent extensive training until she was eighteen; the legal age for new recruits.

Cyan felt her tenuous hold start to slip as the images were thrust unbidden to her mind, disrupted from the locked recesses they had dwelled in for years.

_Blood pours like a sieve, the wound gaping and horrific. There was no survival rate for _that_. Desperate screams rend the air like Valkyries scorned, bodies milling around as acidic liquid spews forth from a massive maw, striking down man and woman alike. All were equal in death; nothing but a cold piece of metal left to identify them. Rank…gender…age…none of it mattered. Cyan stood frozen, watching in horrified fascination as her comrade-in-arms, her friends, were cut down one by one by the ferocious beast of legend. Thresher Maws were generally regarded as incredibly rare; attacks, especially one this gory, had not happened for years and never to Alliance personnel. The thing currently decimating one of the best squads in the Alliance, however, was most certainly real. _

"_Shepard! Move your ass!" The young soldier broke free from her reverie and dodged as a veritable spew of toxic acid splashed right where she had previously stood. Cyan had never been more thankful for her quick reflexes as she let out a low hiss, swiftly wiping off a single drop that had managed to land on the exposed skin of her cheek. The wound smarted, leaving a small teardrop shaped burn mark that would later become a physical reminder of the life-altering attack. Her Mattock quickly leapt to life in her hands as she shot with unerring accuracy at the alien creature slaughtering her team. Captain Devereaux Sharp joined her, gold-flecked green eyes harder than ice. Brunette hair whipped behind the stern captain as she raced forward, her assault rifle picking off pieces of the monstrosity before her._

"_Philipps, Ivy; left flank that thing! Toombs, go to the right! Craig, behind! Let's take this bastard out before any more casualties occur!" Cyan followed the wordless cues the captain leveled her with, the decimated unit coming together to defeat the thresher. The six marines dashed forward, firing with abandon. Another burst of acid short forth, Corporal Toombs narrowly missing a burning hole in his face. The captain kept on firing, the light of desperation brilliant on her beautiful face. The battle was long, but they were able to finally bring the monster down in a cloud of dust. Shouts and sporadic bursts of gunfire sounded in the distance, not far off. Daniel Philipps lifted his brown mop covered in dirt over the hill the marines were behind. "Mother of God…" he whispered. Cyan watched the normally tan and unflappable man pale several shades and his hands shake around the rifle ensconced in his right hand._

"_What is it, Private? Speak up!" Captain Sharp ordered, breathing heavily as her hawk eyes narrowed on the man. "There are more of the bastards across the way! Our men are getting cut down!" Captain Devereaux swore, quickly swapping thermal clips and slamming it into place. "Men, get your asses over there! I am not about to leave Akuze with only six survivors! We came in together; we will damn sure get out the same way!" Of the six on the little alcove set away from the rest of the camp, there were fifty trained marines in all. Tough, strong soldiers, finest of the brass. Not one of them fully prepared for the hellish things unloading on them. It had been hard enough taking on one thresher maw; now there was a damn nest to contend with! Cyan sent a quick prayer up, hoping against hope that the team would be left alive after all this. And the colony they were supposed to protect…_

Cyan ground her teeth together, clutching her head in her hands as her biotics wildly careened out of control. Violet eyes were swallowed by electric blue and her red hair stood on end. Miranda took a step back, hands rising to supplicate the fast deteriorating commander. "Commander! Shepard, _calm down_!" The frantic words, foreign in the native Aussie's mouth, made the woman open her eyes. She took in the wary, shocked look in icy blue. Turning her head, biotic infused eyes took in the guilty, skittish expression painting a gorgeous face. Pain struck Cyan hard as she realized she had frightened not only two of her crew, but had demonstrated her weakness to the woman she desperately wanted to prove her strength to. Closing her eyes and pushing the crippling thoughts away, Shepard forced herself to relax.

Slowly, achingly, the glow of her biotics died down until it was merely a whimper, dying out like the embers of a flame. Her hands slowly unclenched, violet hues opening to see the consequences of her loss of control. Miranda stood stock still, confusion and pity warring for supremacy, her genetically superior genes unable to quell the unusual loss of control over facial muscles long encased in ice. "Commander…are you…?" The prodigal looked like she wanted to say more, but she closed her mouth. The two had gotten closer after Cyan had helped rescue young Oriana Lawson from the clutches of the greedy Lawson matriarch. They still were not BFFs or anything, but a mutual respect and liking of each other made the coalition much easier to bear. Cyan rather enjoyed the hardy woman's company at times; after all, her intelligence was much appreciated.

But now, with that look in her eyes…Cyan just felt cold and lost. Her carefully erected walls, much harder to discern than even Miranda's, had fallen and could no longer be hastily dusted away in some compartment. Cyan had vowed after Mindoir and Akuze to never again lose control of herself. Seeing your family and friends mowed down like nothing really put things in perspective, and the commander wanted to make sure she would never feel pain like that again. Her veneer of control had never wavered, at least not in view of another soul but her own. And now, because of words spoke only in anger and from the person who held her dilapidated heart, her carefully cultivated mask crumbled into pieces and now the fallout and implications would fall upon her. Tiredly, a hand rubbed her aching forehead to stave off a tendril of a headache bumbling underneath the skin.

Slowly, jerkily, she turned around to face the woman who was the catalyst of the incident. Jack looked…contrite, almost. Normally razor sharp brown eyes had softened imperceptibly, and her mouth formed words as if she had never spoken a day in her life. "Shepard…I-I'm…" The biotic tensed, the muscles in her face screwing up as if a sour taste was left in the wake of her half-apology. "I gotta go." The woman turned heel to walk off, only to be halted by a lightning fast grip on her arm. Tenderly, gently, Cyan held the skinny arm between her strong fingers, rubbing soothingly or at least she hoped. "Will you and Miranda be able to work together? I cannot have fighting aboard my ship….not now, not when we are so close to the end." The words were a mere whisper, nothing like the anger displayed previously. Jack, for her part, surprisingly did not jerk from the hold. "As long as the _cheerleader _stays out of my way and keeps her mouth shut, I won't slam her ass into the wall."

Cyan nodded numbly, letting go of the biotic. Jack paused for a moment, looking over her shoulder at the soldier. Her mouth opened again, only for her to slightly shake her hand and briskly depart the office leaving the two weary women in her wake.

Cyan watched her leave with a pang of longing and worry; she hoped to God that she had not scared away the woman with her outburst. That would be unforgivable. Sighing heavily, she turned around to watch as the svelte woman slowly slid into her high-backed chair, hands already moving to start typing away. Business-like to a fault, that woman. "We need to talk about this, Miranda." Fingers levitated over the keyboard, a veil covering blues as her gaze lifted to meet tired violet. "There is nothing left to say, Commander. I-I am sorry I allowed myself to let things escalate between Jack and I. I will remain professional with her at all times…or try my best, at least." Cyan nodded, knowing that was all she could really ask at this point. "Thank you for intervening when you did, Shepard. Things…nearly turned ugly for a minute there. And, for what it is worth, I will say nothing about what just happened. Not to the rest of the crew…and not to the Illusive Man. You have my word."

Relief bled into the woman's expression as she sagged in exhaustion. "Thank you, Miranda. I am glad for your discretion. The galaxy…this crew…they need a strong soldier. The innocent and unknowing should not have to pay for events long buried." Miranda stared at the red-haired woman, a knowing look in her eyes. "Are the events long buried? Or were they merely pushed aside? The funny thing about holding things in is it always finds a way into the light. I know that better than anyone." _Oriana_ burned on the tip of her tongue, shining from too blue orbs. Miranda would know; her family issues still plagued her years later, following her around like a vengeful wraith. Niket's betrayal and subsequent murder by Enyala was only another notch in the 'screwed over' cake her father gave her. Cyan only hoped the woman would find peace after the suicide mission…that is, if they even survived.

Shaking off her glum thoughts, Cyan graced Miranda with a small nod. "People follow those elected leaders. In wartime, strength cannot afford to waver. If it does, chaos assumes its place and innocence is lost. I protect all that is good left in the galaxy; I will _not_ let children pay for the sins of their fathers." Miranda shook her head in acquiescence, turning her attention back to her work. Cyan walked to the door, pausing as Miranda's voice crawled to her ears on falsely innocent wings. "Shepard, you know it might be…beneficial, if you were to talk to Jack. Something tells me you both could use it." Shepard turned her head, a quizzical expression etched across aesthetically pleasing features.

"Why would you think it would help, me **or** her?" The lilted accent hit her voice like a hammer, the words ringing in her ears for hours to come. "Because, Shepard, broken souls sometimes need the touch of others as lost as they for them to be whole again. Many view Jack as a lost cause, including myself. Prove me wrong, and maybe heal yourself at the same time." The commander shook with the intensity and implications of the words, violet clouding over. "I-I will see what I can do. Thank you…" Feeling like the walls were closing in on her, Cyan made a hasty exit mirroring the one Jack made not long before. The XO watched her go, sighing as she resumed her work. The woman made friends as easily as she fell in love; never. For the first time in her life, the Ice Princess dearly hoped the woman she considered her friend found relief from the tragedy that still ruled her life. _If that crazy bitch saves her…maybe she'd give Jack a chance. _"I'm going bloody soft…."

Cyan stood outside the door to the elevator, catching her breath as her heart thumped erratically_. How the hell did Miranda know about jack? I thought my feelings were unknown_…she had been unfailingly careful with her expressions when around the frail-looking biotic. If Jack were to find out, it would be bad. And embarrassing…But, maybe…Miranda was right. Maybe there was truth to her words. Even if Jack was never interested in more than a professional, platonic relationship, Cyan wanted to help ease the tortured woman into acceptance. _Jack deserves love, from whoever she desires. She just needs to learn to move passed her demons._ Cyan nodded to herself, steel infusing in her gaze once more. Later, _tonight_, she would go down to engineering and confront the woman about what she had seen that day. If she was lucky, maybe she could delve into more of Jack's past. _I just hope I did not ruin the tentative allegiance I was making…_


End file.
